Joyeux Noel
by An Fhomhair
Summary: Ah, poor angsty Grantaire has a ittybitty crush on someone besides Enjolras. now, though it doesn't feature any barricade boys kissing [darn] it does have R and Jehan, uh...talking. Sorry I'm so boring. would someone please review, I need critique badly


**Disclaimer: Wow, I haven't done this in a crazy long time. um...je ne...own...pas les mis, et je ne suis pas Victor Hugo. obviously. If I were Victor Hugo I would speak nicer French, for one thing. Oo**

**Joyeux Noel(**a bit late, I know xD

Why are you blushing, boy? Did I say something to offend you? You're always blushing. It's rather odd, you know. Anyone else would look like a bloody beet, the way you blush, but it's nice on you. Suits you. Everything seems to suit you, and nothing I. Ah, God is unfair in his distributions of blessings.

Now you _look_ like you want to say something. Can't you ever just speak?

"I ought to go home." The words come from your mouth sounding small and lost and somewhat apologetic. Why are you always apologizing to people, always worrying about what they think? Why such sensitivity? Sensitivity; it is an alien feeling to me. I've tried to feel it, but lost my grip.

Well, never mind that. "I'll walk with you." I say simply, stiffly, wanting to say more. "It's dangerous this time of night, if you go about alone." _Wouldn't want people to hurt you. People like me, for instance. _You flash me a quick, sweet smile, and blush again, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. Oh, you smiled with your mouth open this time- with your teeth. Interesting. You never do that. We both gather our coats and scarves and you your hat and get up to leave. Once again, we're the last to leave this café. I put out the fire as we leave. Seems to be getting to be a routine nowadays.

A blast of cold air hits me in the face once we step out the door onto the cobblestones. Almost forgot it was winter, we'd been in that room for so long talking by the fire. But it is, damn cold as last year's winter, too. _Except it hasn't snowed this year, yet, in which case there doesn't seem to be any point to coldness_- runs through my mind, but I mentally digress, glance to the side just to make sure you're there. It's hard to tell, you know. You're rather quiet; are you doing what I've heard poets are supposed to do; meditating? Contemplating? Pondering? I don't know what the exact difference between them is, anyways.

"It's cold," I hear myself say awkwardly. Not exactly the best icebreaker when trying to start a conversation, I suppose. Funny- a little while ago we were talking like mad. It's hard to start, though.

"Oh…yes. Yes, it is." You tug your ratty blue scarf around your neck tighter. "I can't imagine what the Seine feels like."

"Liquid ice?"

You laugh. "That's what water is in any case, silly!"

Wouldn't that make a picture, boy? You, there, turned slightly toward me, laughing in front of the velvety deep-blue background of the sky, your hair ruffled ever so slightly by the chilly wind. You're darling. _Darling_.

Wish I could say so.

Of course the moment's lost, in, well- a moment, and we continue. I sigh. The breath is an ethereal plume of white. You're turning to me again, looking like you're remembering, I suppose the look of nostalgia or something. "What're you doing for Christmas?" you ask out of nowhere. Ah, yes- Christmas is tomorrow. I nearly forgot. Stupid of me.

"I don't really know…nothing I suppose." I laugh, hollowly. "Coming back to the café to drink and forget. There isn't anywhere else.You?"

You cock your head to one side. "Oh, I don't know either. Probably going to Combeferre's, Feuilly and Joly will be there. You could come, you know. 'Ferre keeps trying to get Enjy to come, but he won't. He doesn't have any holiday spirit." you say matter-of-factly. I laugh silently over that last bit, and the fact that you said _Enjy_, such playful-sounding syllables,in reference to Enjolras, that stony man. Beautiful statue though he be, a stone nonetheless.

"Thought you had a family."

"I…do." Suppose that caught you off guard. "Everyone has a family." Why do you look so downcast over this? What is it? Ah, but I can't ask, can I. I can't be emotional. Don't want to ruin my false front.

"Hmm…"

"What's that-" you begin, but are quickly distracted. "Oh, here we are." We're standing in front of a large, stone boarding-house. It's a dilapidated, with unswept steps leading to the front doors, and obviously aged. I wouldn't expect you to live somewhere like that; I thought your parents had money. But then again, my family wasn't poor and see how horribly I washed up.

You're looking down, looking embarrassed again, face slightly rouging…you really do blush at nothing, boy.

I frown slightly. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," your voice catches, after beginning in that apologetic tone again, but you laugh to cover it. "Joyeux Noel, Marcelin." I can feel myself smiling at that one simple sentence, fleetingly, not a cold or cynical or sarcastic grin, either. A smile. Because it's you.

"Joyeux Noel." Our eyes catch each other, our words hang in the air as if frozen, and then I quickly turn to go, nodding a goodbye, not able to prolong the moment without an extreme dose of awkwardness on my part. The odd feeling of affection is returning; I stifle it mentally. Tomorrow, as usual, I will numb my feelings and senses over a glass of absinthe, and we will continue as we are.

**-fin-**

**_Author's Note: Uh...the characters were R and Jehan, btw. I mean, just in case you couldn't figure that out...I wasn't sure if I made it clear enough._**


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